In the Kingdom of Spades
by drawthewaffle
Summary: Cardverse AU will be Johnlock. The clocks have chosen John Watson, a nobody, to become the new queen of Spades (yes, I did say queen). With the misterious Sherlock as king and his brother Mycroft as jack of Spades chaos is sure to ensue.
1. Chapter 1

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**For those of you who have not read Cardverses I advise you to read the segment below, however if you have just remember that every Cardverse goes by different rules, so either way, you should read the segment below.**

**CARDS: So overall, the land of Cards is divided into four main kingdoms which are Spades, Hearts, Diamonds and Clubs. Each with its own Monarchy chosen by the Clocks and perhaps defining powers, but we'll let the story decide.**

** KING: ROLE NOT GENDER SPECIFIC. This means the king can be either male or female and no one gives a shit because that how we roll in the land of the Cards! The king is the ultimate power, he or she is in charge of the politics of his or her respective kingdom, they also have the final say in anything of the sort. In times of war, he or she manages the kingdom from inside**

**QUEEN: ROLE NOT GENDER SPECIFIC. Yes this means that like the king, the queen can be any fucking gender they want to be. The queen is in charge of international relations and battle tactics, when in war they lead from the front lines, it is also the duty of the queen to protect the king. Though king and queen are not obligated to marry of engage in any sort of sexual relationship working in close quarters normally leads to this.**

**JACK: ROLE NOT GENDER SPECIFIC. The jack is kind of like the backstage crew/treasurer/secretary of the kingdom, in other words they are stuck with the buttload of work that is not the king or queens. You should feel bad for them.**

**ACE: believed to be mythological but might not be, depends on what the storyline decides**

**HEIRARCHY GOES IN THIS ORDER:**

**-KING**

**-QUEEN**

**-JACK**

**-10**

**-9**

**-8**

**ETC. YOU'RE NOT STUPID (PROBABLY)**

**SPADES: usually the good guy kingdom**

**KING: SHERLOCK**

**QUEEN: JOHN**

**JACK: MYCROFT * SO WHAT IF I MAKE MYCROFT SPEAK FRENCH EVERY ONE IN A WHILE?I BET HE LIKES IT! **

**10: LESTRADE**

**HEARTS:**

**To be decided**

**DIAMONDS:**

**To be decided**

**CLUBS: usually the bad guy kingdom**

**KING: MORIATY**

**QUEEN: MORAN * 'CUS I WANTED**

**JACK: IRENE ADLER**

**10: MOLLY HOOPER * 'cus deep inside you know she's with the BAMF bad guys**

**DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THIS BELONGS TO ME, NONE AT ALL, NOT EVEN THE WORDS, I PROBABLY GOT THEM FROM THE DICTIONARY OR SOMETHING! **

"Mr. Holmes! The Queen Clock has stilled, the new queen has been chosen, sire!"

Mycroft Holmes, Jack of Spades, nodded. It had been several seasons since he'd been chosen as Jack of Spades and even longer since his younger sibling, Sherlock, was chosen as King. To say Mycroft had been surprised by this would've been a lie. Regardless of his naivety and sociopathic tendencies, Sherlock's genius remained unmatched and it was undisputable that he was a great man perhaps even a good one, though that was still questionable. All along, unlike his parents, he'd known that Sherlock was due to be crowned King by the clocks sooner or later. If the clocks chose the right queen (which of course they would, the clocks were never wrong) his brother could potentially shape Spades to be the greatest empire Cards had ever seen.

For as long his brother had been the king, Mycroft had steered him, guiding his decisions and running the kingdom during Sherlock's whims, making sure things never got out of hand had long since become a second nature. Mycroft's duty as a brother would never end, however after the new queen took a hold of things, the elder Holmes would be more than ready to abdicate his undesired position of royal babysitter. He just hoped Sherlock didn't drive him or her away before he had the chance.

Mycroft turned to the messenger, his name started with an S or a C or a J perhaps, not that it mattered. "Very well, it was about time… Send the royal coach, he'll take me to…" Mycroft faltered.

"His name is John Watson, sire."

"Yes, to John Watson's home then we can escort him to the Palace. Make sure we use the finest horses in the stable."

"Yes, sire," Julio, as Mycroft decided was his name, bowed, "Anything else, sire?"

"Would you tell… Anthea," being the gentleman he was, Mycroft respect the woman's wishes to not have her name revealed, and referred to her as Anthea, "To make sure _mon petit frère_ dresses appropriately for the arrival, I was mortified when he met the queen of Clubs in a sheet ."

Bowing one last time Julio scurried off to fulfill the tasks he was given.

The coach was ready in just under half an hour, hooked onto the Kingdom's finest and most well-bred. Julio's efficiency was a pleasant surprise and the elder Holmes reminded himself to promote him, a task that would not be hard given his status, even if the Jack did work behind the scenes. Mycroft grew somewhat uneasy as the coach drove away from the center of Spades where the royals and nobles resided and into the poorer more worn down districts.

The carriage unexpectedly stopped in front of a small, shabby but under the heavy supervision of the royal guard, _shack_. It wasn't really a shack, at some point it had most likely been a humble home to a small family but time had not been kind to the house. The paint was chipping off in chunks and one of the numbers that hung from the door had long since fallen off, leaving only a dusty blotch in its place. This was definitely not what Mycroft had been expecting.

Queens were commonly chosen from the more privileged and well educated nobles while the kings were more likely to come from somewhere in the royal family's genealogical tree. And though it was not unheard of it was highly unlikely for a queen to come from anything lower, especially not as low as district 32.

A short hallway led to a kitchenette/living room, a small door in the left corner was probably the bedroom. A short sandy haired man, looking slightly upset sipped his tea on an ugly beige couch matching the ugly beige walls. Catching a glimpse of the Jack of royals he quickly set down his tea, and kneeled, a pained expression tainting his features momentarily.

"Sire," John spoke, keeping his calm demeanor between gritted teeth, "Could you kindly explain what the f…why my house is suddenly being kept under surveillance? I don't see what I have done wrong" John continued, "I pay my taxes, my records are spotless and I've served in the army of Spades under the rank of captain, so kindly explain why the fuck I left my room for a fucking cup to find _this._"

Mycroft didn't waver, he hardly blinked, John took this as a cue to stand and calmly continue sipping his earl gray. "You must be either very brave or very stupid to speak to someone of my rank in such way _John, _and for the sake of Spades I hope it is the former." John started to ask why but Mycroft cut him off "We're not here to incarcerate you John, I can promise you that. We came to inform you that the clocks have chosen a new queen."

John raised a brow, softening a little but remaining defensive, "What does this have to do with me though?"

"I thought it was clear."

"You surely don't mean…" at Mycroft's nod the façade dropped and John's cup fell, shattering into a thousand pieces of white ceramic, John didn't seem to notice this. "No… why would the clocks choose me? They must be wrong, I'd be the most useless queen ever and…" John had no idea why he even said this, "I'm not gay…"

Mycroft was somewhat surprised at this, "_Mon cher _Watson, the clocks are never wrong. As to your sexuality, I hardly see how this could be an issue, you are not required to be part of an active relationship with your king."

"Really? But I thought…"

"Well obviously you thought wrong, now hurry, its time you meet your King."

**Phew jeez, I mean I know it want that long but shit its the longest I've written in a single sitting for a long time, I hope you like it and please R&R**

**Tumblr user thedoctorhasanewhaircut**

**Au Revoir **


	2. Chapter 2

**ERMAGERDH IM SO SORRY! I have no excuse for being such a hypocrite. I cant mentally voodoo force people to update quicker when I'm worse than they! I even had the chapter written down like 3 weeks ago and- SSOOOOOORRRYYYYYY **

**NOW, DOWN TO BUSINESS. **

**Who would you want as an ace? Honest answers here. PM or Review to tell me**

**I was thinking I would make Sherlock part Fae however I need your opinions. The Fae in general are no longer around, one day POOF, no more Faes. Think Roanoke. For this reason Faeborn are special and Sherlock, therefore, is of a higher magical degree. If anything Sherlock would be part _Spiritus_, the air Fae, other types of Fae include _Lympha_, _Incaendium, Tellus , Tenebra, Stella, _Etc…**

John Watson was having a shitty day. Waking up after a night of fitful sleep, he'd been roused early by the leaks he had procrastinated fixing. Setting off after a quick breakfast, the rest of his morning was a blur of fruitless attempts at getting a job, he would bother with the leaks later. No one had any use for a PTSD ex-army doctor with an intermittent tremor and a psychomatic limp, half of his day had gone to waste. Waste, what a waste of air John was.

Once back in the cold discomfort of his house, simply because it provided him shelter didn't mean John regarded it as a home, the tired doctor wished for nothing more than a quiet afternoon with a warm cup of tea and a cheap, second hand, romance novella, and was surprised when he heard someone knock on the door. Since he'd returned from the warfront, no 'friends' or relatives other than his drunkard of a sister had bothered visiting. Harriet Watson had bugged John to keep in touch but after the revelation of her divorce with Clara, that and the sheer amount of alcohol Harry had consumed , had spoiled the visit. The younger Watson had felt less than compelled to meet up.

Whatever John had been expecting, whether it was Harry or an old mate, it had far from been the fit man standing on his welcome mat. Bill Murray, as he identified himself, stood as a fully uniformed member of the royal guard. The former army doctor had no clue as to why a guard would be invading his doorstep. He'd paid his taxes and didn't recall having pissed anyone off, the latter being unlikely due to John's amiable persona. The spades crest badge pinned onto the taller man's chest was, as far as John could tell, authentic and the number of stripes on his collar indicated he was a high ranking officer. John was quickly shooed back into the house and was told to stay put until some My-whatever's arrival.

John had certainly never anticipated My-whoever to be the Jack of Spades, two ranks under king. Only a fool would tell you this man was less than a five, Mycroft's poised stance and powerful aura admitted he was higher than that. However, all logic pointed out that the Jack of Spades would never be disposed to deal with a man from the 32nd district. Seeing as John was pissed he decided this man couldn't be all that important and carelessly ranted at the stranger.

Less than an hour later, John Watson found himself sitting on finest velvet seated coach the kingdom of Spades had to offer, and frankly, his arse felt unworthy. John knew he should feel psyched or honoured, new queen of Spades, he could commence wars with a flick of his finger now. He would never have to worry about rent again, in exchange John had to submit himself to a highly pressured position and work in close quarters with the man who was rumored to be the most handsome, and biggest prat, in all of Cards.

Mycroft Holmes made John uncomfortable. The older man's cold and controlled demeanor made John shiver and although the two had hardly met, already the blond knew that Mycroft Holmes was near a complete opposite of his own warm jumper-loving self. Neither man spoke once on the ride to the castle.

Having arrived at the castle, the elder Holmes wasted no time in handing John into the care of the royal tailor, an enthusiastic elderly woman with a bad hip who went by the name of Mrs. Hudson. He was quickly dragged into a large room, larger than his army-pension wage house, filled with cloths and silks, and situated in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Soon the youngest Watson stripped of his dirty, holed yet comforting clothes and was left to self-consciously twiddle his thumbs in front of the mirror for a few minutes while Mrs. Hudson searched her collection of rich-ass clothes for something that might be easily suited to John's complexion and body type. After some probing, poking, measuring and an overall invasion of his privacy, John was waved off to the bath chambers where he was waxed, plucked, scrubbed and succumbed to several other forms of torture.

Half an hour and about half a pound of dirt, hair and skin later, John was guided back into the suiting room. Living on an army pension meant not being to afford most luxuries, thus, John's clothes were for the most part second hand and well worn. Being draped in silks and warm furs was almost overwhelming, but John hadn't come this far just to break off the deal at the first change of clothes. It was awkward for the army doctor, however, for Card's sake, his royal boxers cost more than an entire month's expenses.

John was an overall warm person, he was worn and tolerant as well as sarcastic and stubborn as a mule. The man who looked back from the mirror, however, was sharp. This man exuded an commanding aura that told you he would not be fucked with, somewhat like a well-trimmed version of John's captaincy in the army. If the man standing a few feet away from him hadn't waved parallel to himself, John wouldn't have believed it was him.

Watson stared at the mahogany doors. They were… intimidating, giving off a feeling that they were looming over, waiting to come crashing down upon him and flatten him into a john flavored pancake. Did time usually pass this slowly? According to the clock John had hardly been waiting for his majesty a few minutes but it felt more like hours. The couch John sat in could've been made out of rocks, not velvet, for all the comfort it gave John.

The echo of approaching footsteps rang throughout the hall, accompanied by a smooth baritone voice that sent uninvited chills down John's spine.

"Dull, is it necessary I meet this queen? I have several poisons I'd much rather be testing out."

_Poisons? _John swallowed. His train of thoughts interrupted as the doors burst open and the cloaked king barged in.

**C'est Finite**

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